


Let me handle this

by thepilot



Category: The Sisters Brothers (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 04:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17094170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepilot/pseuds/thepilot
Summary: John Morris promises to give Hermann Kermit Warm the best meal ever in celebration of Winter Solstice. If only he'd cooked a meal of this mangnitutde before...Companion fic to my first Modern AU





	Let me handle this

John grabbed Hermann’s cold hand as he led him through the throngs of last-minute grocery shoppers. He smiled back warmly, trying to offer some assurance to the man that they'd somehow make it out of Wegman’s alive. They bobbed in and out of carts and customers who stopped mid step to look at something. It was annoying, to be sure, but the prospect of finally cooking Hermann a proper meal drive John onwards. Hermann pressed up close to John’s side, his brows knitted together in a way that should have been unattractive on anyone else, but John just wanted to laugh and kiss Hermann’s worries away.

“Couldn't we have just had mac and cheese? We could’ve gotten some shredded cheese or bread crumbs to sprinkle on top. That'd be fancy enough for me.”

John squeezed Hermann’s hand. “No, tonight we’ll feast like kings.” Every night since Hermann had moved in to John’s house, they'd either eaten out, or done easy to prepare meals, like mac and cheese. John was...an acceptable cook, but with the Internet and videos, he was positive he could cook something a bit more complicated. He'd settled on a roast, with scallop potatoes and green bean casserole. For dinner, he'd make pumpkin pie.

Hermann smiled weakly, and John squeezed his hand once more. “I know where everything is. Excluding the exceptionally long lines, this won't take long at all.”

Hermann squeezed his hand back and nodded briskly. “All right. I trust you.”

They ran around the store, Hermann trying to carry and balance everything in his arms once they found out there wasn't a single cart left in the store. It wasn't long before John had to fill up his arms as well, but he was content they’d gotten everything they needed, John checking his scribbled list over and over again.

The wait in line wasn't too terrible, or at least not by John’s standards. It was the weekend and only a few days from Christmas, so some traffic was to be expected. John and Hermann were celebrating the Winter Solstice, something they had decided on together, waking up early to watch the sun rise.

As the clerk told them the total, Hermann’s eyes bugged out of his head, but John smiled at him and handed over his card with only a few protests from Hermann. (“I could buy a new car for that! Couldn't we get a pizza?)

They dashed through the treacherous parking lot and made it nearly unscathed to the truck: they were only almost hit once by someone not paying attention.

Once home, they tottered into the house and set everything down in the kitchen. Hermann sat up on the counter as he was like to do, swinging his feet as he watched John darting around and starting to prep everything. They talked about anything and everything: past holidays they'd spent as children, and trials and tribulations of family.

About two hours into John cooking, he'd managed to set the fire alarm off once, burn something beyond recognition, and dropped his phone in boiling water. He wanted everything to be perfect for Hermann, but it was useless: he wasn't much of a cook at all.

Finally, as John returned dejectedly from throwing out the second batch of potatoes, Hermann placed a hand on John’s shoulder and kissed his cheek.

“Let me handle it. Why don't you wash up: you smell like failed cooking and misery.”

“But Hermann, I-”

“It's all right John. You go relax. Come back down in-” Hermann paused to consult the time, “one hour and twenty five minutes.”

John smiled and kissed Hermann's brow, deciding to place his faith in the man. He didn't doubt Hermann could fix this disaster, but he didn't want Hermann to think him a failure. The fire alarm started beeping again, and Hermann started playfully shoving John.

“Go, get out of here. Shoo!” Hermann laughed, pushing John from the kitchen. He reluctantly headed upstairs to wash up and pick a new outfit to wear. He could at least look nice for dinner, if he wasn't able to make it himself.

One hour and twenty five minutes on the dot, John was jolted from writing in his journal by Hermann's voice echoing through the house.

“John! You can come down now! It's all ready!”

John headed downstairs, his stomach full of butterflies from his nervousness at what he would find. He stopped, his tongue catching in his throat as he saw his exceptionally long (and usually lonely) dinner table set with candles and his best dinnerware. All of the food was set out on the table, and Hermann entered, carrying a pot of perfectly cooked scalloped potatoes with an oven mit. The soft orchestral sounds of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons was drifting in from the living room stereo.

Hermann smiled sweetly at John, and picked up a plate, starting to serve himself. “It's all right John. It's not poison, I promise.”

John marveled at his boyfriend and finally found the muscles in his face to smile in awe. “But how-”

Hermann handed John a plate and kissed his cheek. “When I was staying at a homeless shelter once, I started learning to cook with whatever was on hand. I didn't want to eat the same old soup they gave us, so I started experimenting and concocting all sorts of things,” he said simply. He sat down, but John was still frozen. Here was this man, this odd little man with his freckles and far too big eyes and curious mustache who wasn't only just the most genius mind John had ever met, but an incredibly resourceful fellow who was continually full of surprises. Suddenly, John felt unworthy to be in the presence of such a man.

“John? Are you in there?” Hermann poked John with a fork, and John finally stirred from his thoughts, shaking his head.

“It's all right John. I've said it a hundred times this night. It's all right. Pay me back in bed, love.”

John smirked at the remark and finally started filling his plate. “That is a bargain I think I can fulfill.”

\-------

Later that evening, as all the leftover food was put away and John had, with boisterous vocal approval, fulfilled his end of the bargain, they lay wrapped in each other’s arms dozing off in bed.

“Thank you for saving our dinner. Happy Solstice, Hermann.”

Hermann rolled into John’s side and curled his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “You're welcome. Happy Solstice, John.”

Just as John was drifting off to sleep, Hermann mumbled: “don't ever try to cook again. Ever.” John laughed and squeezed Hermann to him. “I promise.”

 

 


End file.
